


Pulling your Puzzles Apart

by keep_me_alone



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Gen, Its sort of gen sort of mlm, M/M, Panic Attacks, and, and they have some sort of complicated queer relationship, harold is ace, heres the thing, john is aro, no propfreading we die like mne (well ok a little bit), some queer motherfucking tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Sort of a fix it/alt ending to Finch's agoraphobia arc which I think is S2 E3 masquerade. Mostly just because if you get some agoraphobia that has like consequences  and I like  I just like my soft boys





	Pulling your Puzzles Apart

Harold stands on the sidewalk, jostled by pedestrians, cars roaring past. The world spins so quickly around him. He knows he's being watched, but it's impossible to say if Ms. Groves is one of the entities watching.

Everything is too much, too fast, too loud. The world is a blur of white noise screaming around him. It is suffocating. Finch can feel his chest tightening, feels himself futility gasping for breath and has to stop in the street.

"Finch, what's wrong?" John pulls him by the elbow to the edge of the sidewalk and he really needs to let go right now.

"Fine..." Harold gasps, "I'm fine...". He pulls his arm out of John's grasp. To his credit, John doesn't try to hang on.

"Harold, you need to calm down," John says softly. His tone is level, comfortable and non-accusatory. John's been in this line of work long enough to recognize the symptoms of a panic attack, long enough even to recognize that the probable cause is agoraphobia from being abducted.

"I can't," Harold wheezes.

"Yes you can. Nothing can hurt you while I'm here. Just take a breath with me." John demonstrates, taking a deep breath. Harold doesn't respond, isn't looking at him. John continues to breathe, but Harold is busy spiralling into himself.

"Come on Harold, try again." John continues a few more times, but Harold is hyperventilating hard now, his breath coming in short painful bursts. "Can I touch you?" John asks. Harold shakes his head violently. "Ok, ok don't worry. I'm here if you need me."

Harold hears him, understands the invitation and almost against his will, grabs John by the front of his jacket and presses his face into John's chest. Harold's glasses are digging uncomfortably into his face, but he can't care because John is so solid and warm against him.

John keeps to his part of the agreement, and just lets Harold have what he needs. He recognizes without really understanding, that for Harold there is a fundamental difference between being touched and touching someone else, so John leaves his hands at his sides, though he desperately wants to wrap them around Harold.

"I've got you," John tells him, "just breathe." He feels Harold take a shuddering breath. It's progress.

Harold can feel John breathing against him, his hard chest expanding and contracting. He feels his breathing start to slow and as he does, it feels like the world around him slows down too.

"John," Harold says. His eyes look glassy, distant, his voice is weak. "I think I need to lie down," he mumbles. Harold lets go of John, takes a step and a half back before he stumbles and falls.

John scoops him up before Harold even comes close to the ground. He gets a couple looks from passerby, but thankfully this is New York and everyone knows how to mind their own business. John decides it's time to go back to the library.

Harold fusses slightly as he starts to come to.

"You're ok," John tells him, "it's just me." He wonders if Harold will demand to be put down, but he just seems confused.

"You caught me...?"

"Sorry, I didn't want you to get hurt," John replies. "We're going back so you can rest."

"Oh," Harold replies simply.

It's a short walk back to the library, and John carries Harold the whole way. Harold is limp and uncomplaining which is kind of worrying, but John figures that he must have just exhausted himself.

John carries Harold up the stairs to the library which is more difficult than he'd like to admit, but he's not sure Harold can manage it right now, and he doesn't want to ask in case Harold takes it the wrong way. They make it up though, and John sets Harold down on a couch before draping a blanket around his shoulders. He goes to get Harold a glass of water, and when he come back, Harold has his glasses off and his eyes closed. John sets the glass on the table next to him.

"What's going on Harold?" John asks gently. He settles into a chair. Harold opens his eyes to look at him and immediately shuts them against the intensity of his gaze.

"It's nothing. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you." John gives him a look that says he sees right through that act.

"I'm not bothered, I just want to know how I can help." Harold is quiet for a long moment. John waits him out, unconsciously falling into old interrogation patterns.

"It's an issue I've dealt with before," Harold says finally, "you don't need to be concerned." John fights the urge to tell him that he's concerned anyways and waits for Harold to continue. "I'm just somewhat... overwrought. With the kidnapping and everything else that's happened recently. It's difficult to occupy spaces I cannot control."

"It's ok to be afraid, Harold."

"Coming from you-," Harold glared at him.

"Not everyone is built for this," John interrupts quietly. "You had a traumatic experience, it's not surprising you reacted, especially if it's an ongoing problem for you." Harold doesn't respond, just shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back. "You're afraid of Root." Harold nods. He doesn't add that he's afraid of everything else too, that the people and probabilities have overwhelmed him. "Nothing will happen to you while I'm around." Harold looks at him, hugs the blanket tighter

"It already has," Harold says, a little desperately.

"Harold," John says, leaning forward, "I won't let that happen ever again. I will always come find you. I promise." His blue eyes are burning with fervour, and though he wants to, Harold can't look away. He swallows.

"I believe you," Harold finds that he's trembling slightly.

"Thank you," John says, and the look is gone replaced only by his earlier softness. He stands up. "Just rest for now. I'll help you out later." He starts to leave, but stops in the doorway, "and Harold?" Harold looks at him, "I'm not going anywhere."

Harold nods and John goes to the next room so Harold can have some room to recover. He leaves and something shifts and suddenly Harold can breathe again. Harold drinks his water, feeling unsteady. He really does need a minute, but he's glad that John isn't far.


End file.
